


When the Fire Fades From Your Eyes

by writingramblr



Category: Sin City - All Media Types, Sin City:A Dame to Kill For (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Movie Spoilers, Post Movie, sin city: a dame to kill for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...Will you still have purpose?</p><p> </p><p>[After the events of Nancy's story in A Dame to Kill For, she's left facing a horrible truth, a life without purpose. She can't stand to be alone, not any longer, so she commits the ultimate sin. She's already tricked him once, what's one more time?]</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Fire Fades From Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [From Dance to Love](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/69150) by VerelLupin. 



> So I wrote this right after seeing the new movie, and i gotta say, i must have a bit of an angst bug cause it's all i can seem to write.

Marv had pulled himself to his feet, somehow, someway, though after the beating he’d taken, Nancy wasn’t sure how. He was talking to her, telling her something, but she couldn’t really make out the words through the foggy haze of pain.

All she knew was pain now.

The anger, the fire, all that hatred and need and lust for revenge had been snuffed out the second she pulled that trigger again.

Senator Rourke was dead.

John Hartigan was avenged.

So why the rotten feeling?

Why the emptiness that seemed to swallow her almost whole?

Now what? What now? What can she do?

Marv managed to pull her to her feet, and she can ignore the pain for now,

“C’mon Nancy, we’ve gotta get out of here. I know we got everyone, but people will come looking for him. He might have called someone before you shot him.”

Nancy doesn’t pay much attention to where Marv is driving, but she knows enough about Old Town to recognize it when they stop moving.

“The girls owe me a favor, they’ll fix you up right. Take care of yourself now kid.”

Marv’s helped her out of the car, and she’s passed into strong yet delicate arms, and perfume clouds her senses.

The girl’s clean her up, patch her wounds, and even give her the bullets to keep as a reminder.

“You are not weak.”

She thinks maybe that was Gail who told her that.

By the time she’s back home, being tucked into her own bed, there’s no pain anymore. Strong stuff those meds they must have injected her with.

***

Now it’s dark out, and there’s nothing to do. Surely Marv’s told Kadie that Nancy needs some time off, time to think. It’s only right, only fair.

She’s clutching the bottle of vodka with that same death grip, but this time, there’s no point. It’s not liquid courage anymore, it’s liquid fire. Fire burning through her, trying to convince her she’s still alive. But for what?

John’s still dead, still gone, and she’s all alone.

Shaky hands dial the phone, and Marv picks up in an instant.

“What is it Nancy? Are you alright?”

“Please…I can’t be alone. Can you come over?”

She can’t stand how pathetic she sounds, like a child. But he’s agreeing, and his gruff voice assures her he’s on his way.

He’s such a big guy, one might think he didn’t even know how to knock, except for her. He taps the door like it’s made of glass, and Nancy throws it open and is in his arms in a heartbeat.

She’s crying and she probably started the second he hung up the phone.

“Oh now. It’s okay kid. It’s okay.”

John Hartigan is dead. He’s still there though, in some mirrors, the corners of Nancy’s eye, but he can’t hold her, touch her, really speak to her.

So there’s only one person left.

One pair of arms almost the same as John’s.

Marv. The big lug.

He doesn’t know what to do with an armful of sobbing Nancy. He sits them both down on her couch, and just stays still, holding her and sneaking the occasional drink from the half empty bottle on the table.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m terribly selfish.”

Nancy speaks into his chest, the cold creaky leather of his coat and he sighs.

“Nancy, you’re not selfish. The last word on earth to describe you would be that. Stop talking bullshit.”

She hiccups, or maybe laughs, and shakes her head.

“No I am. You see these scars? These cuts?”

Marv puts his hand under her chin, and tilts her face up towards the dim light, and nods, his gut twisting. She’s still heartbreakingly beautiful, but now she’s got silvery streaks marring that perfect face.

“The ones that bastard gave you? What of them? I bet they’ll heal completely soon enough. The girls did a great job.”

Nancy shakes her head again, and her voice is rough,

“I did them.”

Marv’s hand tightens on her chin for just a millisecond before it loosens.

“No you didn’t. Don’t waste your breath trying to make me believe you’re something you’re not.”

“I did. I knew you’d help me. John said he’d kill the man who hurt me. I knew you would too.”

Marv frowned at her,

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Nancy’s gaze is unfocused, and she’s smiling in a strange way,

“Sometimes I see him. Sometimes I can hear his voice. He’s so close, but so far away still.”

“Okay kid. Whatever you say. You went a little crazy. It happens. I’ve got a condition, I should know.”

His laugh is loud and jostles her from her position, encased in his arms, but she doesn’t mind.

“You’re still my hero Marv. Always will be. Do me one last favor?”

Her eyes are full to the brim with tears, and she’s got him trapped in her gaze,

“Sure Nancy… name it. Anything.”

“Stay with me. Just for tonight. I’ll be okay in the morning. I just can’t be here alone. I still see him, Roarke, he’s still going to haunt my dreams even when he’s six feet under.”

Marv nods wordlessly, and she buries her face in his chest.

Her hands move around, and one’s over his heart for a while, just feeling that one singular assurance they’re both still living and breathing.

Then she’s sitting up a bit, tracing the outline of his shoulders, feeling his muscles flex beneath cold leather, and it doesn’t take much effort to shrug him out of the coat.

It’s a damn fine one, but once Marv catches on to exactly what Nancy wants, he doesn’t feel bad about leaving it on the floor.

Her breath is warm against his neck as he picks her up, and walks her to her room. Her bed’s a mess, sheets tangled and folded horridly, a chaotic ocean of silk and cotton.

Marv is more than prepared to drop her onto the mattress, and let her sleep it off, they’ve both had enough to drink as it is, but her hands tighten around his neck, and he can’t leave her.

He promised her.

Maybe it’s terrible of him, but when she starts writhing around beside him, he lets go a little of his perfect control. Short black hair or not, she’s still Nancy, and she’s an angel.

He knows she’s thinking of Hartigan as she grinds against his jeans, her quiet moans and strained sighs not for his ears.

She’s only got a thin little black slip on, and he probably shredded it within seconds after she guided his hand to touch her.

She wants him to do what her ghost can’t, maybe he’s a saint here, and she’s the sinner. But if this is how he’s going to hell, he could argue that it’s an awful lot like heaven.

His eyes close, and he lets her have her fantasy, strong muscled hands clench on her thighs, and she rides him until her cries of ecstasy fade, and she’s shaking with sobs atop him.

He’s still practically fully clothed, but he pulls her close, and tugs a sheet over them both.

Nancy won’t sleep alone and unprotected, not this night.

***

The morning dawns harsh and chilly, and Nancy wakes up wrapped in a cocoon of her own making. No nightmares last night. No dreams of any kind. Unless the scent of sex in the air is her own imagining, she did the worst thing imaginable.

She used someone.

She used Marv, and he let her.

She pulls the pillow over her head and screams until her throat feels as if it might bleed. She could suffocate, she could end it all right there.

But she can’t yet.

Not until she brings him flowers.

One

Last

Time.

The graveyard is empty, as per usual at eight o’clock in the morning on a Monday. Everyone who’s anyone is at work, or maybe still getting breakfast. The coat she’s shrugged on is way too big; the front right pocket is heavy.

Marv had a heart; she proved it the night before when she left her hand over it for nearly as long as it took to drink that bottle dry.

He was her hero.

But John was her knight in shining armor. The only man she ever loved. Still dead, still gone, but not quite silent.

She’s almost at the headstone, and she hears it.

“Nancy…”

Could be the wind, or the wretched hangover that’s brewing in her temples, but it’s so familiar her heart aches.

“John, I did it. I told you I could. I proved you both wrong.”

The victory is hollow, but she imagines he’s smiling at her, shaking his head,

“Damn right you did. I’ve never been so happy to be wrong. You grew up strong Nancy. You’re free now. You can do anything, go anywhere, live your life.”

She lets the flowers go, and doesn’t even look away from the cold marble where they fall to.

“I don’t want to. It’s not living if you’re not here. I can’t live without you.”

“Nancy, listen to me. Please don’t do anything stupid.”

Her teeth grit together, and her hand tightens inside the front right pocket.

“No you listen! I’m done here. I’ve done it. I avenged you; now don’t make me stay in this hell. This rotten town. This awful world, it’s nothing with you dead.”

“Nancy, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I still love you, and I’m going to see you soon.”

Cold steel warmed by the heat of her palm emerges from the coat, and Nancy’s finger curls around the trigger.

“Nancy…I love you too.”

She smiles at him, the spectre, the shadow, and then squeezes the trigger.

It all goes black.

An angel goes back to heaven, and finds redemption in the arms of the man who loves her.

Nancy Callahan, aged twenty-three, is found dead by the graveside of John Hartigan.

The flowers she always brought are still blooming, some say.

***

**END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> it's written in Sin City style, as best I could, so the tenses may not match up perfectly.
> 
>  
> 
> and i just gotta say, i had such chills when John told her that if any man ever hurt her, like she cut herself, then he'd have killed them. he's a ghost or her imagination or whatever, but he's so bad ass-ly protective of her...i love it!


End file.
